


Spread Your Wings As You Go

by mayathepsychic (wxrlddestroyer)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Depression, Gen, Insomnia, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, past frerard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 02:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12596216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wxrlddestroyer/pseuds/mayathepsychic
Summary: Gerard wonders what it would feel like to fly.





	Spread Your Wings As You Go

**Author's Note:**

> title from Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran.

 Gerard should be asleep. He knows that, and he  _ knows  _ that they have to get up early tomorrow for soundcheck and he knows he’s screwing up his whole sleep schedule. He just can't bring himself to find sleep.

 It’s been hard - especially after he decided to go sober - and Gerard’s pretty sure the only things keeping him kicking these days are coffee and adrenaline.

 He doesn’t want people to think differently of him. He doesn't want pity, or special treatment. So he keeps the fact that he hasn't slept in two days to himself.

 So, that’s how, at 3 am, he finds himself leaning over the ledge of the roof at the hotel they’re staying at, taking a drag of the cigarette between his lips.

_ It would be a pretty long fall, at least a few hundred feet, and it would probably be enough to- _

 No. He promised himself he’d stop thinking like that. He’s doing this for Mikey, Frank, Ray. His family. The ones helping him through this mess.

 The problem is, he  _ is _ the mess. No one would even have to handle his life for him if he had just done what he was planning.

 Then Gerard realizes, he wishes Mikey hadn’t found him. He wishes his little brother hadn't stood with him for what had to have been hours on that rooftop, trying to convince him to come back down. He wishes Mikey would’ve let him jump. It would've been a whole lot easier for everyone.

 He watches the embers of the cigarette flurry around in the air as he flicks it, watches as the little firey fairies float down to the street below. Gerard wonders what it would feel like to fly.

 After a while, he stomps it out and stumbles carelessly back down to his room. He’s as quiet as he can manage in his slightly dazed state as he opens the door, trying not to wake anyone. but despite his efforts, he still manages to trip over his own feet as he staggers in the dark towards his bed. Or maybe it was a pair of shoes on the floor, which is improbable since Frank can’t sit still without tidying up for more than five minutes, but Gerard’s not sure.

 “Gee?”  _ Shit. _

__ “Yeah, Frank?” He replies quietly, frozen in his place at the foot of his bed.

 “You went out again.”

 There’s a moment when Gerard wants to tell him all of it, he wants to complain and cry and have Frank comfort him, he wants to drown in self pity, but he doesn’t.

 “Yeah.”

 It gets quiet for a minute after that, and Gerard thinks Frank fell asleep again.

 “You're not sleeping.”

_  Wow, way to cut it right to the chase. _

__ Gerard doesn't know what to say. Frank's always been the bluntly honest, not-afraid-to-hurt-your-feelings type of friend, and he knows lying isn't going to get him anywhere.

 “I’m handling it,” he finally says, which is bullshit. He’s not handling it. Frank knows, too.

 “Don't lie to me,” he says, his voice sounding less tired by the second. “Coffee isn't handling it. It’s like you're not even here anymore.”

 And Gerard's ready to burst into tears. It's been awhile since he allowed himself to cry. But now's not the time nor the place. He chokes it back.

 “'m sorry, Frankie.” his voice comes out weaker than he had anticipated.

 “Go to sleep, Gerard.”

 Gerard doesn't like the way Frank said that.

 Then Frank's rolling back over with a sigh, and Gerard can tell that’s the end of their conversation.

 ---

 It’s quiet tonight. No one else is here. Gerard is left with his thoughts again.

 The last time he was on this roof, it ended with holding his brother as close as he could, telling him he wouldn't try again, ever. That he loves him more than anything. That he’d never ever leave him.

_ I’m sorry, Mikey. _

__ “I woke up and you were gone.”  _ Fuck. _

 Gerard whips around like a toddler caught stealing a cookie.

 “How’d you find me?”

 Mikey is shaking like a leaf in the wind, his arms wrapped around himself. There’s a blanket hugging his shoulders and Gerard swears he’s a little kid again.

 “It wasn't that hard, Gee. I was hoping you wouldn't be up here, though.”

 His voice is shaky and cautious, like if he talks too loudly or too harshly or too  _ anything _ , Gerard will break.

 “You don't gotta worry about me, Mikes. I was just having a smoke,” he tries to assure him, taking a drag from his cigarette to prove his point.

 Mikey is quiet for a moment, just looking Gerard up and down, like he’s trying to assess whether he’s lying or not.

_ “Gerard.”  _ the younger of the two looks at his brother pleadingly, his bottom lip quivering. Gerard’s seen this many times, as kids when Mikey would have a nightmare and crawl into bed with his big brother. The one he looked up to—who always knew what to do. The one that always fought off his monsters. His hero.

 The brother Mikey once knew is gone. He’s a completely different person now. Now Mikey’s fighting off his own monsters,  _ and  _ Gerard’s.

 “Please come inside. Come back,” the scared little boy begs, sniffling.

 Gerard looks defeated, exhausted. The bags under his eyes have sunken in, he’s paler than Mikey’s ever seen him, and he looks like a walking zombie. Even without the makeup.

 “Mikey... Mikey, please don’t cry, I don’t like seeing you cry.”

 “Then fucking come inside already!” the taller boy sobs, his arms wrapping impossibly tighter around himself.

 Gerard purses his thin lips in the dim light of the city beneath them.  _ You know I can't do that, Mikes. _

 They just stare at each other after that, the two folded in on themselves in the chilly wind. There’s a good few meters between them, but Gerard can see every feature of Mikey’s face. They make up a disappointed, tired image, and Gerard hates seeing it like that.

 “I can’t do that, Mikey, you know I can’t,” he whimpers, barely audible.

 Mikey glares at him. He looks like he’s about to break down and pull his hair out at the same time. “Yeah, Gerard, you can! I’m done with your bullshit! You're not helping  _ anyone  _ like this!”

 Gerard didn't know what to say. Luckily, he didn't have to. The door to the roof swings open and an oblivious couple trots out and start marveling at the stars.

 Mikey’s expression softens but his body stays rigid.

 “Con, look at the sky! Isn’t it b- oh, I’m sorry, are we interrupting something?” the starry eyed woman asks politely, completely oblivious to what she just walked into, holding onto the arm of the man who stood next to her.

 Mikey stays frozen in his place. “It’s okay,” he says towards the couple behind him, “I was just leaving,” he says weakly. He stares his brother down; one final plea for him to  _ come inside, dammit. _

 “Oh, okay… Sorry to bother you guys,” the woman says, her eyebrows raised at the obvious tension between the two men in front of her.

 Mikey turns around then, making a beeline towards the exit, his blanket flapping in the wind like a cape.

 “No problem,” he replies. Then he’s gone again, and Gerard really wants to cry. He wants to cry until he doesn't have anything left in him and he wants Mikey or Frank or  _ anybody  _ to tell him it's okay. That he'll get through this and he'll be fine. But he can't, because he's not _ weak _ and he's not going to burden his friends with his petty problems.

 He goes back inside.

 ---

 He's sitting alone on the cold concrete, a cigarette between his fingers and his knees pressed up to his chest. His sneakers kick at some loose gravel as he pushes the cancer stick between his chapped lips and he _ almost _ laughs at his own patheticness.

 He doesn't even look up when someone else pushes open - with quite difficulty - the heavy door to the roof and he's not alone anymore.

 It's not that late yet, probably just past midnight. The person stops right in front of Gerard's hunched over figure, only their scuffed vans in his view.

 “You got a lighter?” he asks. Gerard reaches into his pocket and hands it to him. He lights up and hands Gerard back the lighter. He sits down next to the boy in the same position, gazing over at him.

 Gerard sighs. “You really shouldn't smoke, Frank. It's bad for you.”

 Frank just chuckles. “You're doing it,” he replies matter-of-factly, nudging the older boy in the side with his elbow.

 “Yeah, but I’m  _ older  _ than you,” the taller boy says, still staring down at his Converse knock offs he got at Target for half the price of the real ones.

 “Age has nothing to do with anything, Gee.” Frank narrows his eyes as he inhales another breath of smoke.

 “Just don't want you to die of cancer or something. I dunno,” Gerard says, shrugging his shoulders.

 The younger boy cocks his head to the side, staring intently at his bandmate as he exhales the vapor through his parted lips.

 “Do you want to die, Gee?”

 The other's silence is answer enough.

 Gerard shrugs again. “Dunno. Maybe,” he says nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal. Frank tries to ignore when his heart drops through his chest.

 “Hmm. Well, that's a shame. Especially since Ray and I sound like dying cats when we sing, and we both know no one’s going to convince Mikey or Bob to sing in this lifetime. So I guess the band would have to end. 'Cause we aren't getting a new singer.”

 Gerard holds back an eye roll. “Oh, really now?”

 Frank rests his head on Gerard’s shoulder, humming.

 “Yeah,  _ really.  _ No one can replace an idiot like  _ you,  _ Gerard.”

 It’s the first time he's seen Gerard smile in a long time, he realizes. But it’s gone as fast as it appeared.

 “You sure are one smooth sonuvabitch, aren't you?” he asks sarcastically, laughing half-heartedly.

 “Yes, yes I am,” Frank replies. He leans up and plants a slobbery, too-friendly, too-familiar kiss to the side of Gerard's face.

 The other boy groans. “You're so  _ gross,”  _ he whines, wiping at his cheek with his sleeve.

 “You love me,” Frank says, smirking as more smoke escapes his mouth.

 “Whatever,  _ doofus _ .” He’s too scared to tell him he still does.

 It's quiet after that, as they sit in comfortable silence, the only noise coming from the busy city below them.

 They used to spend countless nights like this, just  _ being. _

 Frank wraps his arm around Gerard's back, holding him tight. He's missed this.

 Frank's the first to talk, despite how much he doesn't want to. Despite how much he wants to stay in this moment forever.

 “You can tell me, Gee,” he whispers. Gerard tenses. “But you don't have to. You don't have to say anything.”

 They're quiet then, listening to the traffic below and the sounds of their breathing. And for a minute, Gerard forgets about himself. He allows himself to just  _ be  _ with Frank and it's the first time in a long time.

 Maybe they don't have to talk, and maybe that's okay.


End file.
